


Late nights, fist fights, and dysfunction: A series of Batfam Ficlets

by glaciya



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Apologies, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Starting Over
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-07-16 06:16:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16080179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glaciya/pseuds/glaciya
Summary: 1. In which Tim gets hit with fear toxin and Damian is the only one around to help.2. Tim/Dami: Things you said with the T.V on muteBasically what the title says. These aren't long enough to be their own thing, so I'm just going to put them all in one. I'll add tags as needed. It'll be marked as "Complete" bc each chapter will be a one-shot, but I'll add to it periodically as I get prompts.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Request fill from tumblr!

Damian has seen many victims to Scarecrow’s fear gas. They scream, run, cry, anything to get away from their nightmares. Damian himself nearly stabbed Grayson once while under its influence. He’s never seen someone react to it the way Tim is, standing there in front of him silently, staring off at nothing.  For one stupidly hopeful moment he thinks maybe Scarecrow made a faulty batch.

“Red Robin?” he calls out, lying on the ground from where Drake had pushed him out of the way of Scarecrow’s attack and taken the hit himself.  

He still feels the shock of it. The knowledge that Tim protected him while endangering himself. They have an unpleasant history, one that was put on hold when Tim went away to college for four years and hasn’t been touched since he came back to Gotham months ago. They’ve hurt each other in the past, both of them in the wrong. So Damian can’t understand why Drake would take the hit for him.

Damian’s thoughts are interrupted when Drake suddenly sinks to his knees, muttering quietly to himself.

“Red Robin,” he calls again, this time more urgently. He doesn’t bother standing, instead rolling to his hands and knees and crawling over to Drake.

At eighteen Damian has already passed Drake in size and grown into something resembling his father’s. It’s no difficulty at all to gather Drake in his arms and tug Drake closer to him. Scarecrow left the moment they were both too distracted to stop him, so Damian doesn’t hesitate to slide Drake’s cowl back to get a good look at him.

His eyes are wide, flickering back and forth at something in the space over Damian’s shoulder. His lips are moving as he whispers but Damian still can’t make out what he’s saying.

“Drake,” Damian says. “ _Timothy._ ”

Tim answers him with a wounded animal noise that has Damian considering murder for the first time in years. It’s lucky Scarecrow isn’t there anymore. He makes to stand, but Tim reaches for him suddenly and clasps his upper arms in a tight grip.

“Don’t go,” Tim croaks and Damian feels like he’s choking on his own heartbeat. “Don’t-”

“We’re both going,” Damian says.

He grabs Tim’s hands and gently pushes them off his arms without breaking contact, using his grip on Tim’s hands to pull Tim up with him. Tim goes along with Damian, but he doesn’t respond to anything Damian says or asks.

__________

When Tim wakes up in the infirmary of the batcave, the first thing he sees is Damian, asleep in a chair right next to the bed. He shifts and stretches thoughtlessly, stilling when Damian’s eyes start to flicker open. Damian’s face scrunches up in a yawn. It makes him look young, sweet, nothing like the demon brat Tim knew years before.

“You stayed,” Tim says when Damian’s yawn settles.

Damian nods. “You asked me to. Do you remember?”

“Yeah,” Tim winces. “Thank you.”

Damian absentmindedly runs his hands over a wrinkle in the sheets next to Tim’s leg, smoothing it out. “For what?”

“For staying.” Tim shrugs. “For taking care of me while I was under.”

“Did you think I wouldn’t?”

“I don’t know,” Tim says honestly. “We don’t really know each other that well, do we?”

Damian works his jaw for a moment before he mutters something Tim can’t make out.

“What was that?” Tim smiles despite himself. Mumbling is something normal teenagers do. He’d never thought he’d see Damian doing it.

“I’m sorry,” Damian says, loud and clear this time. “For the way things began with us. I shouldn’t have treated you the way I did.”

“I’m sorry too. I am,” he insists when Damian’s head whips up to shoot Tim an incredulous look. “I was older and should have taken the higher road, but I never did when we fought.”

Damian still remembers the fresh pain and betrayal when he found out that Tim had been trying to prove Damian wasn’t actually Bruce’s son all those years ago. He remembers how heartbroken Tim looked as he stormed out of the batcave, how he’d taunted Tim about taking the Robin title. They’ve both hurt each other.

“I wish we could start over,” he sighs.

“Why don’t we?”

“What do you mean?”

Tim gives him a small tired grin and holds out his hand. “Hello, my name is Tim Drake.”

Damian stares and Tim’s grin widens.

“ _‘Um. Here on my world, we call this gesture a handshake.’_ ”

Eight years ago Damian scoffed and rejected Tim’s peace offering. Today, he grips Tim’s hand in his own and welcomes it.


	2. Things you said with the tv on mute

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another Tim & Dami request fill from Tumblr :)

Despite it being almost five in the morning, the living room isn’t empty when Damian pads in, barefoot with his softest blanket draped over his shoulders. Drake sits on the couch, curled up with his laptop on the arm of the couch, typing away as the TV casts a soft blue glow over him.

When Damian yawns and scrubs his eyes, letting his exhale come out louder than necessary to announce his presence, Drake’s fingers don’t pause on the keyboard. Even Drake doesn’t deem Damian worthy of his attention tonight, it seems.  Damian sneers at him while he isn’t looking, marching over to the couch and sitting down on it with less grace than he should. In the back of his mind he’s aware he’s behaving like most children his age when they’re low on sleep. As much as he usually hates the thought of being ordinary, tonight Damian can’t find the energy to care.

The remote sits in a neutral space on the cushion between them. Damian considers it briefly before choosing to ignore it. He’s too tired to focus on anything right now and the flashy anime Drake chose for background scenery is entertaining enough without sound.

Damian watches the rest of the episode with Drake by his side, the only sound in the room being the light tapping of Drake’s fingers against the keys. When the end credits begin to play Damian flicks his gaze to the side to look at Drake, only to find Drake already looking back at him.

They both look forward quickly. Damian shifts and he hears Drake clear his throat. His fingers don’t resume their pace on the keyboard.

“I had to do it,” Damian says suddenly, the words tumbling past his lips against his will.

“Okay.”

“It had to be me.”

“Okay.”

“I knew if I could just get close enough to Jon to talk to him, I could bring him out of the influence of the red kryptonite, and _I was right_.”

“You were.”

“….then why did father yell like that?”

Drake flips his laptop closed and turns to face Damian fully. “Because you scared him.”

“Nothing scares father.” Damian snorts. “Besides, he knows I’m perfectly capable of handling myself.”

“He knew you could, but he also knew that you wouldn’t hurt Jon if your plan hadn’t worked and he turned on you.”

“It doesn’t excuse-”

“I’m not excusing him. Just stating facts. You scared Bruce and Bruce, well he doesn’t handle strong emotions very well, does he?” Drake shakes his head. “Giant man-baby,” he mutters. Damian grins despite himself. It falls flat in shock when Drake adds, “You did good today.”

“I was already aware of this.”

“Yeah, but sometimes it’s important hear it from someone else. Your actions today saved hundreds of lives and you did it in such a way that your friend didn’t get hurt.” Tim clears his throat. “Good job, brat.”

Something in Damian’s chest settled at that, and he burrows further into the couch cushions. “Thank you,” he says quietly. He sees Tim nod before his eyes start to droop, exhaustion taking over now that the tension has drained from his shoulders.

He wakes up several hours later when the sunlight is streaming bright through the living room windows. Drake is gone, but his father sits in his place, sipping coffee and reading the morning paper.

“So,” his father begins, not looking at Damian, “Tim informed me that I owe you an apology.”


End file.
